


Amidala's Five

by girlmarauders, knight_tracer



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Gen, Heist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-12
Updated: 2018-09-12
Packaged: 2019-06-23 00:26:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15594198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlmarauders/pseuds/girlmarauders, https://archiveofourown.org/users/knight_tracer/pseuds/knight_tracer
Summary: Padme Amidala has just got out of prison, and she has a job.





	Amidala's Five

**Author's Note:**

> Cover art by reena_jenkins.

**Podfic Length:** 43:22

 **Stream:** [click here](http://knight-tracer.parakaproductions.com/Podfic/Amidala's%20Five.mp3)

 **Download Links:** [mp3](http://knight-tracer.parakaproductions.com/Podfic/Amidala's%20Five.mp3) | [m4b](http://knight-tracer.parakaproductions.com/Podfic/Amidala's%20Five.m4b)

Padme woke up looking at the underside of an Imperial prison bunk. She was on the lower bunk, and had done her best to sleep on the flat metal. There was a growing pressure in her lower back where it would hurt for the rest of the day. She sighed. She needed to get out of this place.

The siren that marked the beginning of the work day blared in her ear only a few seconds later, and she didn't have a moment to herself for the rest of the day. Prison was mostly just boring, once you got over the song-and-dance at the beginning about making sure everyone knew you weren't gonna let them walk all over you, but today was a special day. Today was her parole hearing.

It had been stupid to get caught trying to defraud a admiral, but she couldn't turn back time, so it wasn't worth it to dwell. There were a lot of things in Padme’s past that she chose not to dwell on. Instead she focused on the goals in front of her: get out of this Imperial prison, get back to the Rebellion, get back in the field.

She shuffled into the parole hearing, keeping her eyes downcast, focused on the grey material of her jumpsuit. The Imperial Parole Board didn’t care what had happened to her outside of prison. All they wanted was for her to reformed, to be a productive imperial citizen. She could fake that pretty well.

“Amidala, of Aldaraan,” said the parole officer, and Padme took her seat in the centre of the room. Amidala was a pretty common name on some of the core planets now, and it was always easier to hide in plain sight. She smiled nervously.

“Sirs, ma’m,” she said, keeping her gaze respectful. What a farce. One of the board members flicks through her file lazily.

“It says here this is your first offence,” she said, smiling thinly at Padme. Padme nodded eagerly, trying to appear like she wanted to please them.

“Yes ma’m,” she said.

“And do you believe you are reformed?”

She nodded again.

“Yes ma’m, I really do. I really think I've learned my lesson, here, and I want to put that into practice, do the right thing from now on.”

The other board members were barely looking at her, but she knew if she said the wrong thing they would know. It was all about saying the right thing at the right time, not just saying the right words but saying it all in the way that would make them hear what they wanted to hear. It was a lot like politics that way.

“If you are freed, what will you do?” asked a bored looking man on the left of the line of seats. “How will you be a productive member of the Empire?”

Padme resisted the urge to shrug and smirk. The Rebellion was definitely going to find a productive use for her.

“I think the best thing I can do is find a job and live the quiet life,” she said quietly. “That's all I want.”

The rest of the questioning was more of the stock questions, and she could have answered them in her sleep. Already she was thinking about the outside, about how to reconnect with her contacts, re-affirm networks that would have laid dormant while she was inside. It was good to have something to work on. Being in prison had felt like trapping her mind in a hoverbike with no forward thrust, the engine turning over but going nowhere.

“Thank you Amidala,” the parole officer said, when the hearing ended, and Padme smiled at her, hoping she looked like a productive member of the Empire. She left the parole meeting room, keeping her small smile tucked in tightly to her chest.

She was on work detail for the rest of the day, and listened to prison gossip while she sorted electronics, and then kept listening over the industrial dinner. Prison was boring, but every criminal gang in the galaxy had a representative in the Gureda Imperial Prison, which made it a good place to gather information.

The next morning, she woke up staring at the underside of the same prison bunk, the same low-level pain in her back. She allowed herself one short sigh, looking at the flat metal of the bunk, before she sat up, squared her jaw, and got ready to put herself through another day. One of the guards stopped outside her cell door and rapped on the bars.

“Amidala?” they asked. She stood, and put her hands behind her back.

“That's me,” she said, keeping her gaze on the guard's boots.

“Hmm,” the guard hummed. “Lucky you. You're getting out today Amidala. Collect your things, report to guard desk in the next hour.”

Padme’s cellmates looked at it once the guard’s back was turned, but she only shrugged and smiled vaguely. No one ever knew how to treat a prisoner when they were leaving. Carefully, slowly, trying not to seem too eager, she stripped her bed, folded the linens and her spare uniform, and left her cell, not looking back. At the guard desk, she signed next to her name and prisoner number, and handed in her uniform in exchange for the clothes she had been arrested in. She sighed when she saw them. It was a very impractical evening gown, heavy with beading, and a pair of old fashioned geta platform sandals. She had to struggle into it all in the prison changing room, leaving several of the harder ties undone. It didn't have the same effect at all without makeup and with her hair pulled into severe bun, but she held her head up regardless.

One of the guard’s raised her eyebrow when she emerged from the changing room. Padme met her gaze directly. She was nearly a free woman. She didn't have to defer to them anymore.

They handed her the bag she had been arrested with, and she rifled through it. There wasn't much: old mints, a crumpled blank postcard she had never written on, spare parts from a hover scooter she had never repaired and had surely been stolen by now. Buried under that detritus, she found the credits holder, and curled her hand around it. It had enough credits for a slow transport to Corellia, and from there she could make her way.

The guard looked at her again.

“What're you gonna do?” they said. She grinned back at them, showing all her teeth, and they nearly flinched back. She saw them catch themselves.

“I've got credits and my freedom,” she said. “I can do anything.”

She whisked her bag off the table, squared her shoulders, and then with her most queenly walk, strode straight out of prison.

&&&

The prison was on a crowded space station, along with an ore-processing plant where the prisoners were often put on work duty, and a recycling depot where the Empire sent their least favorite officers. She stood out in her evening gown, but she kept her head up and glared imperiously at anyone who looked like they might comment, or disrupt her. She took a circuitous route through the space station, working her way further away from the prison entrance, until she was sure there was no-one who had seen her leave. The dock was busy, but she joined the first class boarding line for a sleek liner without looking round, as if she was entirely supposed to be there.

When she reached the desk, she looked calmly at the ticket clerk. They were a Cemas, and surely nervous as a non-Human living on an Imperial space station. They smiled at her prettily, a good customer service face, and Padme looked back at them blandly.

“My husband is on board,” she said flatly, every bit the Imperial wife dealing with a non-human. “He went ahead with the tickets.”

The line behind her was long, and a little disgruntled, and it was making the clerk flustered.

“Oh, ma’m, I’m very sorry, but we can’t let you board without a ticket,” they said. Padme rolled her eyes, looking bored.

“Really?” she said, aggrieved but bored, clearly holding back from rolling her eyes. “You can ask him, he’s just on board.”

“I’m very sorry ma’m, but I can’t let you board without a ticket.” the clerk said again.

“I don’t believe this,” Padme said, gesturing with exasperation. Someone behind her grumbled. Time to wrap the play up. She looked at the clerk, keeping her eyes wide. “Can you do anything to help me?”

The clerk tittered, a little offended but also relieved. This was the game; making the mark want to get rid of you but not so angry that they'd involve anyone else.

“There is a very similar liner leaving in about an hour,” said the clerk. “I'd be happy to give you credit to board that liner, if that's alright ma'am?”

Padme shrugged.

“Fine,” she said. “I suppose that'll have to do.”

Within the hour, she was on a private cabin on a star liner, relaxing in a robe and, most importantly, far away from prison. She didn't feel bad about the grift. It was all stealing from the Empire. It was only small, but she was happy to take every chance to poke them in the eye.

The star liner went to Corellia, stopping at more space stations on the way, collecting Imperial officers and their families on leave, wealthy banking clan or spice families. She went ashore a few times, to steal or buy more clothes, and spent her days listening to Imperial gossip, shuffling each piece of information into her mental filing system. The liner’s final stop was the core worlds, Alderaan and Chandrila. She watched through the porthole viewscreen as they passed Alderaan, her hand pressed to the window, wishing she could be closer. It was too dangerous, too risky to be seen near Leia. Still, she ached.

The liner docked in Chandrila in the planet's morning, and she disembarked into the butter-yellow sunlight she always associated with it. She took one deep breath, her first non-recycled air in over a year, and disappeared into the crowd.

She moved with the crowds for a little while, watching the news screens that dotted central Chandrila, and then, knowing where she wanted to be, picked a direction.

She was sitting in the sitting room in Mothma’s office, inspecting her finger nails, when Mothma walked in around middday. She had gone through the office already, removing three listening devices, a recording camera, and one malicious banking clan malware probe. Mothma’s security detail were getting slow.

“Old friend!” Mothma said with surprise, when she entered the office, and then embraced here. Padme held her tightly. It had been so long.

“I removed the listening devices,” she said, and Mothma smiled.

“Padme, they will only add more.” she said. Padme grinned. It was good to be back.

“Let them keep adding them,” she said. “I wanted to talk to you.”

Mothma's office was a far cry from prison, and it was an unreasonable pleasure to sit in comfortable chairs with a friend and simply talk. Mothma was full of news from the Rebellion, and the Imperial Senate. They hadn't been able to speak during Padme's stint in prison, and Mothma's absence in her life had been the greatest wound.

“What will you do now?” Mothma asked, steepling her hands in front of her. “You were in prison for a long time.”

Padme waved a hand.

“Less than a year this time,” she said. “It's a hazard of the job.”

“That is what I mean,” Mothma said, raising an eyebrow. “Do you intend to keep at the job?”

Padme stared at her.

“And do what?” She asked. This was a familiar disagreement. “Draft policy for the senate? I'm most useful to the Rebellion in the field.”

Mothma made a face, the same mix of worried and fond that Padme saw on so many of her friends now.

“I won't argue with you,” she said, and then paused. “It has been so long Padme.”

That encompassed so much, the length of Padme’s prison sentence, but also the length of this war that was not a war, the fight that would never end. Padme reached out to grasp Mothma's hand and they held each other's hands in silence for just a second. When they seperated, Padme knew she had to do something. The itch in her gut had started up again, the same itch that had pushed her into field work in the first place.

“Mothma,” she said, squeezing her hand. “I need your help again.”

“You know I'll do anything for you,” Mothma said.

“I want to steal the Juranga.”

“Not that.” Mothma said quickly. “Padme, not again.”

Padme sat back.

“I can do it.”

“You'll need an army to steal the Juranga.” Mothma said. “If you didn't realise, the Rebellion is barely holding its own. We don't have an army to spare.”

Padme smiled slyly.

“Five people. Me on point, you to fund us, and three others. That's all I need.”

Mothma paused. Padme knew she had her attention.

“Five people?”

Padme nodded.

“I already know who, and I know it can be done.”

Mothma frowned.

“You don't have a team yet?” she asked doubtfully. Padme paused. “You haven't asked them yet, have you?” She stayed quiet. “You haven't asked them yet.”

“They'll say yes,” she said confidently. “Look, will you back me?”

Mothma sighed.

“The Juranga, Padme. It would be such a victory.” She sounded tempted.

“They'd know it was us. No one else would steal it. The whole galaxy would know the Rebellion struck at the heart of the empire. We could give people hope.”

Mothma smiled.

“You haven't changed.”

Padme spread her hands in front of her.

“Give me a ship and 5,000 credits and I'll show you how little I've changed, old friend.”

&&&

Mothma gave her a ship and 3,000 credits as a compromise. Before the end of the day, she was leaving Chandrila, the empty galaxy ahead of her, alone and free. It was not safe to stay with Mon Mothma for long, and besides, her point woman would not be in Chandrila.

Two days later, her ship docked in Corellia, on a hot, humid day in the middle of summer. The dockyards with enclosed and sweaty with the crush of people of every kind. She signed and paid for her docking under a fake name and braved the crowd.

Deep in the urban centre, there was a bar, its unmarked door set back from the walkway. She knocked three times, and once the door was opened for her, sidled past the Togruta working as security. Inside, it smelled like cheap alcohol and unwashed bodies, but Padme sat at the bar regardless, and gingerly leaned her elbows on the bar, waiting to be served.

“Aren't you supposed to be in prison?” asked the bartender, and Padme grinned.

“Just got out,” she said. “Aren’t you supposed to be in hiding?”

Sabe smirked back, slyly.

“They haven’t caught me yet.” She poured a clear drink into two glasses and nudged one in Padme’s direction. “It’s good to see you.”

“You too,” Padme lifted her glass. “Absent friends.”

Sabe nodded and they both knocked their drinks back, inhaling with a wince. It burned. Sabe looked - well, the same. Her hair was shorter, and she wore it swept to the side, rather than in the tight handmaiden’s bun, but otherwise she was the same, Padme’s old friend, confidante, sister.

“So, what brings you to Corellia?” She said, leaning on the bar. The other patrons knew better than to eavesdrop. Padme shrugged.

“I might have a job.”

Sabe side-eyed her.

“Oh, you might?” She said, just short of rolling her eyes. “C’mon what is it?”

Padme reached across the bar for the bottle, and poured herself a half. It wasn’t good, but the only alcohol in prison had been home-made.

“I don’t know if I should tell you,” she said. “You might not want in."

“Stop trying to play me, you’re no good at it.” Sabe said impatiently, taking the bottle back. They were both smiling at each other. It was good to be back.

“Does that mean you want in?” Padme asked. Sabe huffed exasperatedly.

“Yeah, yeah, I want in, c’mon, spill.”

“I’m going to steal the Juranga.”

Sabe had to turn to the side to spit out her drink.

“Padme, no,” she said, almost mournfully, but she was trying not to smile. Padme grinned back at her.

“We can do it. Mothma advanced me 3,000 credits. We just need a grifter, and someone to lift for us, and then we’re golden.”

“Just? You’re tell me you don’t have a crew yet?”

Padme knocked the last of her drink back.

“You’re the first one I asked.” She paused. “After Mothma, sorry. I needed a ship.”

Sabe waved her hand like she didn’t care. She looked like she was considering it.

“Who did you have in mind?” she asked.

  
&&&

She left Sabe in the back of the ship, with the copies of the plans she had taken from a safety deposit box on Corellia while she navigated out of the core planets. She knew where she could find her next member, but they would be hard to pin down.

“I still think you’re crazy,” Sabe said, climbing into the cockpit. “I just want to say that for the record, so I have “I told you so” rights when this goes wrong.”

Padme flicked the switch for the autopilot and leaned back in the pilot’s chair.

“You already had those,” she said with a smile. Sabe had been telling her off for hare-brained schemes since they had been apprentice legislators together. They were a good team. Sabe peered over her shoulder at the navigating computer.

“We’re heading to the Outer Rim,” she said, raising her eyebrows. “Someone out there we’re visiting?”

“Maybe,” Padme said slyly. “I couldn’t possibly say.”

Sabe rolled her eyes.

“I’m going to go nap, wake me up when we get there and you can introduce me to your mystery thief.” she said.

It was only a short jump to Onderon, and the whoosh of hyperspace around the ship was calming, watching the elongated points of light rush past. She rearranged herself in the pilot’s chair until she was comfortable and fell asleep to the sound of space. It had been nearly 9 years since the war began, and Padme now found space as comfortable as she had ever found the palace in Theed. She was adaptable like that.

She woke when the nav computer beeped that the hyperspace jump was complete, and she flicked the switch to bring the ship out.

“We're coming out of hyperspace!” she shouted over her shoulder. Sabe was already coming up the passageway.

“I heard the nav computer.” she said, leaning over Padme's chair. “Onderon? There's someone here you think can be our thief?”

Padme smiled.

“An old friend.”

“An old friend who'll be happy to see you?” Sabe said doubtfully. “I don't think there's anyone on Onderon who would be happy about being found.”

Padme took over the manual controls and eased the ship through Onderon’s thick atmosphere. From the air, Onderon didn't look inhabited, let along like the galaxy's best intelligence asset lived here, but Padme knew better. Each of the clearings, which appeared natural, was the landing pad of a small settlement, hiding smugglers, criminals, rebels, free-holders, the usual hardscrabble community that evaded the Empire on the Outer Rim.

After a few minutes of low flying, she recognised the oval shaped clearing she wanted, and pulled the ship up to land. Sabe handed her a blaster; she already had one strapped to her hip.

“I hope we get a nice welcome,” she said, a bit sarcastically. Padme took the blaster with a sigh. Sabe was always so pessimistic.

She strapped on the gun belt as she walked down the gangplank, knowing that Sabe was keeping an eye out for her. Here on the ground, under the tree canopy, she could see the earth-coloured homes clustered around the edge of the clearing. She waved at Sabe.

“This way,” she said. The house she remembered had a slash of red ochre paint above the door frame, barely distinguishable from the brown of the earth, unless you knew to look for it. She knocked on the door, three quick raps.  
  
“Go away!” someone shouted from inside. Padme turned to look back at Sabe, who shrugged and gestured in a way that said “this is your show”.

“It’s Padme, let me in!” she shouted through the door. Something heavy thudded against the door.

“I know who you are, go away!” shouted the voice from inside, and then the door swung inwards, yanked open by the furious young Togruta.

“Hello Ahsoka,” Padme said. “Long time no see.”

Ahsoka put her hands on her hips.

“What do you want?” she said.

“Well,” Padme said. “We were hoping to find someone to help us steal a bunch of stuff from the Empire, but if you’re busy I’m sure we can reschedule.”

She turned, as if to leave, raising her eyebrows at Sabe, who watched on. Sabe raised a hand over her mouth, their old code when something was funny but they couldn't laugh.

“Wait!” Ahsoka said. Padme turned back, raised a single eyebrow. Ahsoka pushed the toe of her boot into the ground, looking suddenly exactly like her younger self learning lessons from Anakin. “It has been a long time. You should come in,” she said.

&&&

Two days later, the three of then flew off Onderon, Ahsoka’s bag sitting on her bunk, all of them pouring over Padme's plans. They shared spacer cakes, careful to keep the crumbs off the thin onion-skin paper.

“You need a gifter, for this plan,” Sabe said, brushing crumbs away. Padme hummed. Ahsoka was working out in the open area, doing pushups, while items from the ship, a blaster, a paperweight, rusted spare droid parts, floated around her.

“You’ll need someone good,” Ahsoka said, swapping to a one-handed pushup. Padme sat back, and looked at both of them. Ahsoka swapped arms.

“You have someone in mind,” Sabe said. Padme watched her. Ahsoka rolled to standing, and jumped to do a pull up on one of the struts. “It’s Dorme isn’t it? We’re going to pick up Dorme.”

Padme crossed her arms.

“You said we needed someone good,” she said. Ahsoka dropped to the ground, hardly making a sound.

“Are you guys done?” she asked.

&&&

Tinnel IV was covered in cities, only faint strips of blue rivers and yellow farmland visible between them. Padme steered the ship down to a landing pad, Sabe in the copilots chair, Ahsoka leaning between them.

“Does she know-?” Sabe trailed off, not looking up from her notes, distracted by some thought. Padme was glad she was reviewing her plans; Sabe had the finest organisational mind in the galaxy.

“She knows we're coming,” Padme said, as the ship rocked on landing.

“You know, your weird handmaid telepathy is kinda freaky,” Ahsoka said.

“That's a bit rich, coming from a Jedi,” Sabe said, absently. Ahsoka made a face.

“Former Jedi,” she corrected.

It was only a pick-up dock they were at, so Padme left the conventional engine idling, and walked to the already open gangplank. She ducked down to peer out into the sunshine, and waiting, standing at the end of the gangplank was a tall, fair woman, her dark hair piled on the top of her head. Next to her feet were two brown duffle bags, round and full. She picked up the bags and climbed the gangplank, her steps brisk, the heels of her boots clicking against the metal.

“Your highness,” she said, grinning, and Padme pushed at her shoulder.

“Good to see you too Dorme,” she said, and Dorme dropped her bags on one of the empty tables. She peered at the blueprints upside down on the next table. The hydraulics of the gangbang closing whooshed behind them.

“You going to fill me in on this plan?” Dorme asked, her eyes glinting with good humour. She'd always been the joker of the group.

“Let's get out of the atmosphere first,” Padme said, “We'll do it all together.”

&&&

Sabe and Dorme kissed cheeks once they'd left the atmosphere and were comfortably cruising far away from other planets.

“Do all your friends look exactly identical to you?” Ahsoka asked, sitting with her elbows braced on the table. “Was that one of the rules of being Queen? Only identical friends?”

Padme felt half her mouth quirk in a smile.

“Not quite,” she said.

“Rabe was even blonde,” Dorme said. Ahsoka looked up, a little exasperated.

“It’s useful,” Sabe said with a business-like shrug. “Padme, you want to do the honours?”

Padme unrolled one of the blueprints and weighted it down with the assorted paperweights on the table - hair brushes, spare droid parts, a glass of water.

“Now, I’m sure you’re all familiar with the name Juranga,” she said, looking around at familiar faces. Dorme crossed her legs, sitting on the edge of the ship’s bench, and nodded.

“Sure,” she said, “the shipping family. They had an office in Naboo.”

Padme nodded.

“The last of the Juranga family died years ago, but where does the name live on?” she asked, tapping the blueprint. Ahsoka’s eyes lit up.

“The Juranga frigate.” she said.

“Exactly. The Empire’s number one escort ship, leading the galaxy rich and comfortable around the Empire’s parties and meetings for the last four years.”

“And we’re going to steal it,” Sabe said, a statement rather than a question. Padme grinned, and tapped the blueprint of the Juranga frigate in front of them.

“As a ship, it’s dripping in firepower. It’s the biggest symbol of Imperial domination, when the Juranga comes to visit your planet, and we’re going to steal it.” She paused, and looked around. It was good to be in the company of friends, but she knew that each of them had been scarred by the years of war, that there were friends missing or in hiding that could not be with them. “We can make the Juranga disappear completely. It can give people hope,” she said.

There was a long pause while they looked at her. Everyone dealt with the war in their own way. Padme chose to believe that it was never lost, that there was always something that could be done. She had hidden her children in far-off parts of the galaxy and thrown herself into field work because of that belief. She had to believe that victory was possible, no matter how small. But the Juranga, that would not be a small victory. It would be a blow to the Empire in their own home, disrupting the lives of the rich and powerful who supported them, hitting them where it would actually hurt.

“Sure,” Ahsoka said, fake casually. “Let’s do it.”

Dorme folded her hands in front of her.

“That’s all well and good Padme, but how do we do it? We can’t just wander in and commandeer it. It’s got a manifest of nearly a thousand sentients.”

“That’s why we’re not taking it when it’s full.” Padme said. She tapped the front of the ship’s blueprints. “The Juranga has state of the art tech onboard, and that means regular services. Now, we know the Empire. They love nothing if not routine, and the Juranga has a very tightly managed service schedule, that means in a week’s time it’ll be taken rotation for 10 days, and completely emptied for its interstellar travel to Kuat Drive Yards.”

“It’ll only have a skeleton crew, less than four people and a handful of droids,” Sabe said, cutting in. Dorme looked skeptical.

“That’s all well and good, but Kuat Drive Yards is the most defended part of the galaxy after the Imperial palace. How are we going to steal the Empire’s flagship from there?”

“We’re not,” Padme said with a grin. This was her favorite part of the plan. She’d had a lot of time to think about it. “The Juranga is too big to make journey from Coruscant to the Drive Yards in a single jump. It has to stop and rerun the calculations, which for a ship that big, can take up to 2 hours.”

Dorme raised an eyebrow. She obviously didn’t like the “up to” hedge. Ahsoka raised a finger.

“Where?” she asked. There was a star chart on the table and Padme reached forward to tap  
a small, almost empty quadrant.

“Here,” she said. “Merek Four Station. Uninhabited most of the year, except for a tiny crew that takes up residence just before the arrival of the Juranga. And, lucky for us, we’re all free to take up a new job at short notice.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out four plastic coated Imperial passes, and placed them on the table.

Even Dorme grinned at that, and she left Sabe to review everyone’s roles when she ducked into the cockpit to run the hyperspace calculations for the next jump.

&&&

The ship was a whirlwind of activity for the next several days, as the ship took multiple short hyperspace jumps around the galaxy, circling Imperial space but never passing directly through it, always trying to avoid Imperial monitoring. Dorme and Sabe argued, butting heads over logistics and preparation in the old way of sisters. Ahsoka seemed to mostly find the fights alarming, and kept retreating to the cockpit to bother Padme, when Dorme and Sabe are disagreeing about something.

“Were they always like this?” she asked, one evening, leaning over the back of the pilot’s chair. Padme hummed and looked up.

“Like what?” she asked. From the back of the ship, she heard Dorme shriek in frustration. “Oh, you mean like that.”

Ahsoka nodded.

“It seems like a really stressful way to get things done,” she said. Padme shrugged, and flipped the switches so the autopilot could take over.

“They’re not actually mad at each other, they just like to argue,” she said. “Can’t you sense how they feel?”

Ahsoka made a face.

“It’s a bit rude to do that without permission,” she said, and pulled herself into the co-pilot’s chair.

“Oh,” Padme said. “You’ll be fine to use the Force during the job though?”

Ahsoka nodded.

“It’ll be fine. I’m used to it now,” she said. “It’s been a long couple of years.”

Padme nodded.

“I understand that,” she said quietly.

They made brief eye contact over the ship’s console, and Padme knew Ahsoka understood. They didn’t have to talk about it. They knew they shared something unspoken.

&&&

Two days later, they were ready. The ship docked at Merek Station Four, where the automated airlock let them connect to the station and filled the station with breathable air. They gathered at the entrance to the station, all in their borrowed Imperial uniforms. Padme took one last look over the group. Everything had to go perfectly to plan.

One by one, they nodded at her. They were ready.

4 hours later, the Juranga appeared, blinking into view out of its hyperspace jump. Padme and Sabe were in the control room, Ahsoka and Dorme both by the airlock.

“Merek Four Station come in, this is Juranga Operations,” came a voice over the communication array. Sabe leaned forward and spoke into the array.

“Juranga Operations, we read you, this is Merek Four Station.”

“Understood,” said the bland Imperial voice from the Juranga. “Are you prepared to receive our hyperspace coordinates for calculation?”

Sabe looked up at Padme, and grinned.

“Uh, that’s going to be an issue, Juranga. We’re suffering some technical difficulties here, we’ll need to come over and interface directly with your computer. Permission for our technical officer to come aboard?”

“Merek Four, this is highly unusual,” came the reply. Sabe made a face.

“Agreed Juranga, I wouldn’t suggest it unless it was necessary,” she said. The line crackled for a second before a reply came.

“Permission to come aboard granted, we’ll release the airlock now.”

“Understood, our technical officer is crossing over now,” Sabe said, and gestured, the signal to Dorme and Ahsoka to be ready. They both had specific roles to play.

The hydraulics of the airlock whooshed, and Dorme, in full Imperial uniform, stepped through it. No Trogruta worked for the Empire, at least not by choice, and Ahsoka was concealed behind a turn in the hallway. Padme heard Dorme make quick small talk with the ship’s officer, distracting him as Ahsoka sidled onto the ship.

Even if he had turned away from Dorme’s chatter, Ahsoka’s force tricks made her difficult to see, the memory of her sliding away. She would slip away to the ship’s engine systems, unobserved by the ship’s tiny skeleton crew, and redirect control to Padme, in the station’s control room. She needed to move undetected across the entire ship, using the force when she could, to avoid the sporadic patrols of the skeleton crew. She also carried a portable hyperspace engine, usually used on a ship much smaller than the Juranga. It wouldn’t be able to take the ship the full distance, but it would let them make small jumps, to make their eventual get-away. 

Across the open communications channel, Padme and Sabe could hear when Dorme entered the bridge of the Juranga. Her heavily-accented chatter was distracting, and perfectly timed to keep the other ship’s crew off balance. Dorme was good. Padme had always found the best people.

For a few minutes, Padme and Sabe listened to Dorme talk, the clattering sound of her connecting to their central computer. One of the tablet computers in the station control room flickered to life. They had control of the ship. Sabe grinned, but stayed quiet. Now they had to get the crew off the ship without raising the alarm. They would disable the communications array in the station on their departure, which would buy them precious time to get the ship to the Rebellion without being pursued. 

Padme raised her eyebrow at Sabe. Time to go. This was Sabe’s favorite part of the plan. She picked up a heavy wrench, and, with great glee, began to hit the console as hard as she could. It was pretty hard; Sabe was stronger than she looked. The communications channel was still open. The bridge on the Juranga could definitely hear.

“What the hell-” the sound was crackly over the communications channel, but clear. Padme still regularly carried a knife with her, and she used it to cut one of the hydraulics lines, the gas escaping with a piercing hiss. It only controlled the station's solar panel wing, but the crew of the Juranga didn't know that.

“What is going on over there! Merek Station, come in!” shouted one of the Juranga’s officers.

Sabe leaned over the comms array, banging the wrench arrhythmically against the console.

“Juranga, come in, Juranga, come in, we're requesting immediate assistance to avert catastrophic system failure, repeat requesting immediate assistance,” she said, sounding panicked. Being a handmaiden, even being Queen, had been a good education in acting. Padme shouted in the background, loud enough to be heard through the array, not so loud as to drown Sabe out.

“Senyan, Marcus, Korell, I want you on that station immediately. You, tech officer, what is happening over there?” the commanding officer on the Juranga sounded off balance, worried now. If Merek Four failed, the ship wouldn't be able to complete their hyperspace calculations, and it would be stranded at sublight speeds until help arrived. An expensive error in a command structure that did not easily tolerate mistakes. “Officer, engage the engines, take us away from the station, I don't want to be nearby if it blows.”

Sabe quickly jammed several of the keys on her tablet computer. Now they found out if Ahsoka had managed to get to the engines. Padme looked across at Sabe, as the Juranga made a deep humming noise, and then nothing. 

Both of them grinned at each other. Almost there. Not time to celebrate just yet. The comms line crackled with static for a moment. Now was Dorme’s time to work. Sabe disconnected the tablet computer from the console, and both of them grabbed their packs. The three crewman from the Juranga would be coming aboard soon, and they ducked out of the second bridge exit, hurrying the long way around to the airlock. They stopped regularly to check Sabe’s tablet, telling them where the Juranga crew were in the station, and finally, tensely, made it to the empty airlock. 

“Psst!” came a whisper from the other side of the still open airlock, and Ahsoka stuck her head around the corner. “C’mon, quickly!” she said, and Padme and Sabe scampered quickly across the airlock, ducking in next to her just before the sounds of crewman became audible around the corner.

“How many still on board?” Padme asked in a whisper. Ahsoka held up a hand and gestured, counting out four. They were relying on Dorme now.

The three of them carefully made their way down the hall away from the airlock, Sabe between them tapping away at the tablet. In the distance, a siren started up. Padme looked over her shoulder and Sabe winked.

“That’s the siren on the station,” she said. “If Dorme hasn’t got them moving that’ll help.”

“Shh,” Ahsoka hissed, and waved to the side. “Get out of sight, quick.”

The three of them quickly ducked into an alcove, and then moments later, four crewman and an officer went rushing past, none of them looking to the side, heading in the direction of the airlock. Padme didn’t let them rush, but the speed definitely picked up, and Sabe steered them right, until they reached the bridge. Dorme was already at the control console, and grinned when they entered. Padme threw her a bag, and she caught it.

“I’ve already closed the airlock. The crew are all onboard the station, they’re still trying to figure out what’s going on,” she said. Padme slid into the pilot’s chair at the front of the bridge.

“Alright then ladies, let’s take this ship away,” she said, already reaching for the airlock disengage.

&&&

It was a two day journey, hopping between sublight speeds and hyperspace, the ship’s computer only able to calculate short jumps, but the sublight engine could run on autopilot.

The main lounge had champagne stored in huge crates, just waiting for the Empire’s rich and comfortable. She thought the Rebellion could do with a crate or two, but one bottle was enough for them for now.

Sabe popped the cork on a bottle in the middle of the lounge, and they all reclined on the gold patterned sofas, under a crystal chandelier. They passed the bottle around, gripping it by the neck to drink.

“What’ll you do next?” Sabe asked, looking at Padme. It was fond, a little surprised, a little exasperated. Like usual then. Padme leaned back, letting her head thunk against the sofa.

“Take this to the Rebellion,” she said, patting the sofa. “See where the work takes me. Keep fighting.”

“Not to Alderaan? Or Tatooine?” Sabe asked quietly, taking a drink and then passing the bottle onto Ahsoka. Padme thought about it for a second. It was tempting, to take the time after a big score like this to go back, to see Luke and Leia. She shook her head.

“It’s too dangerous,” she said wistfully. Ahsoka drank.

“What’s on Tatooine?” she asked. Padme shook her head again.

“An old friend from before the war, that’s all. It wouldn’t be safe to see them. What about you Ahsoka, where will you go?”

Ahsoka swallowed, and passed the champagne to Dorme.

“There’s a Rebel cell on Chenoi. I’m headed there next, they need a fighter.”

Sabe turned.

“Dorme?”

She necked the bottle as graacefully as that could be done, and then put it at her feet, smiling.

“There’s always a rich Imperial to scam somewhere,” she said. Padme raised a hand.

“I’ll drink to that,” she said, and they all raised their hands in mock toasts.

“To the Rebellion!”

 

 


End file.
